Monday, October 31, 2005

Robbie Williams is starting up a website for fans with an inner sanctum. For a mere $60 you get a t-shirt and full frontal pictures of himself. So, is it worth it? Is it better not to know? Obviously it's not going to be a disappointing sight, but how do we know it's real? We've all heard of photoshop, and do we trust him not to indulge a little? Do we really want to see it at all?

Reminds me of my hen's night, when I was dragged onto a Stud's Afloat boat. While I have nothing against male strippers in general, this was a pretty poor experience. The wine or champagne they gave us could have doubled as paintstripper, and probably did, dinner was half cold, and the guys were okay looking, but nothing really special. Not that they didn't try, all the waiters had tight black pants with no shirts on but believe me, 5 o'clock shadow on the chest is not a good look. Also, if you don't tend to drink to excess, as I don't, then you see the gaps in the performance.

The only highlight of the night was the last stripper who came out in a gorgeous white naval uniform. Unfortunately he then took it off. I don't think I was the only one in the room thinking '' Nooooo, put it back on! You look so much better with it on!"

This was only beaten by the horrible experience I was unfortunately responsible for in Canberra. But some background first. We were celebrating the upcoming marriage of good friends of ours. I was going out with the bride and a group of girls, and D was going out with the groom and a group of mates. So our night started with dinner where we presented the bride with the usual brightly coloured veil covered in condoms, a huge lollipop dummy necklace, an large male apendage candle, and some amusingly shaped pasta. As you do. Except that we discovered in Canberra, at the time, you didn't. The other hens nights we ran into you could only distinguish the bride by the small, discrete touch of tulle in her hair. They all looked at our bride like they were so glad they didn't know us. But fortunately by that time the bride was too drunk on champagne to care. That's when she asked if there was a stripper. We hadn't organised one, because being a good catholic girl, we didn't think that was her scene. As she drunkenly slurred, it was going to be her only chance...

So off to the public phone and a bemused directory assistance person when I asked for strip clubs in Canberra with male strippers. Fortunately at the time there were only about two, so we rang both. The first was booked solid, but the second thought they might be able to help us. I should have known when the guy I was on the phone to said 'hang on I'll see and called out to someone else do you want to do a strip tonight?'. The reply was (unfortunately) yeah, okay, why not.

So we got into taxis and headed for the den of iniquity and building supplies that is Fyshwick. At the door of the strip club we paid $20 to get in and were herded past the female strippers stripping in front of a very drunk group of men. It was byo grog so no concerns about not getting served for being too drunk. A huge cheer went up when they thought that we were the second round of ladies coming in to entertain them.

We were led to an area at the back that had been hastily hessianed off and which sported pictures of a buff young man, who we were told would be our stripper for the night. By this time the girls were starting to sober up. A wading pool was brought in for some reason which we never really worked out. Then after about an hour waiting and sobering up, the stripper appeared in monks robes, with nunchucks. At this point our eyes widened, in horror. We could see the resemblance between this pasty interloper and the posters, but it looked like his older, paler, less fit brother. He then started dancing and twirling the nun chucks, for about three seconds before throwing them out the door and taking off the robe. We were about to sue for false advertising. This was not the six pack shown in the poster, this was pale and flabby flesh and no way were the girls drunk enough to go through with this. Unfortunately we were stuck. The bride was horrified, but the rest of us decided to take it in our stride and laugh hysterically at this poor guy trying to do a strip. We cowards quickly pointed out who was the bride when he asked, and she, poor girl, copped most of the crap. He stripped down to his jocks in front of her and gyrated in her face. Then he picked on the girls screaming with laughter, which was most of them. He seemed to spend an inordinate amount to time grinding his bum into people's laps. As his back was all sweaty this was really really gross. Finally he left, after trying to convince some of us to play in the paddling pool. No way were we going to become the next act. So we left.

As we walked out the door a group of taxis were pulling up. Suddenly there was a scream and one of the girls was pointing to the taxis. A familiar lot of faces were piling back in to the taxis which were then screeching away from the curb. Yep we had caught the boys about to enter the same club. Unfortunately we then had to explain what we were doing there. But it was okay, they were just as embarrassed as we were. Then we swapped stories about how bad it had been and agreed never to talk about it again.

We were so cynical.We said it could never be done.We argued our doubts emphatically, emotionally and eloquently.We voiced concerns, we quaked with anxiety.

We were wrong.

I have just seen the new Pride and Prejudice and it was superb.There is just nothing wrong with it. At all.

All discussion is going in camera, but if you have seen it or have questions, I am dying to disect this someone!But a quick note: George can go screw himself. I'll go for the redesigned Darcy, or the adorable Bingley, or even the thoroughly edible Wickham.

(Oh yeah, and I want to kill the whingeing princess on IMDb who wrote the review - obviously one of these people who doesn't get the concept of "movie adaptation" and would have whinged about the Elves coming in too early in the LOTR films. The review is basically; 'It doesn't replicate the book perfectly, therefore it is worthless.' You know the type...)

Code46 is a new release on DVD. It is simply a gorgeous film, and I very much regret not seeing it in the cinema. It is a near-future Sci-fi and like all good, proper sci-fi I acn't discuss the plot at all for fear of lessening the impact of the minutest detail.

This movie is a movie-lover's movie. If you love the very *idea* of film then, like me, you will be entranced by every aspect of Code42. (It is certainly a thinking-person's film.) It is superbly executed and realised: the camera work is sublime; the soundtrack is perfect and the settings are unique and spot on. All these componenets make the atmosphere truely complete. What makes it's triumph greater is how small it's budget was - so small that everything was pared down such that most of it was done with a crew of fifteen carrying out guerilla style film making: no external sets or extras - just filming on the street. The acting is awesome and must have been extremely challenging at times (you'll know, when you see it.)

The story is beautiful. It's my kind of story and my kind of film. It is profoundly sad on several levels. It is the ultimate antidote to all those films that have happy endings so the audience will forgive the writers. This film is sad so the audience will believe.Make sure you see the trailer after watching it. Even the trailer is perfection. Don't even read the blurb. Just find a quiet night that you can settle into and let this film seep into you like smoke from a gutted candle infusing a room.

The whole movie is delicate: it's the tide coming in, rather than surf breaking. I couldn't help thinking that these guys should have made 'Lost in Translation'.I think I may have found the one movie I would like to have made.

Night Watch.I don't recall there being any spilt blood in the trailer, but there is buttloads of blood. I can't recall a more visceral movie. Your typical Holywood film will show that characters have been in a fight by making them dusty/dirty and, often, smeared with charcoal because of the stuff that's been blown up. In Night Watch you know characters have been in a fight because they are covered with blood and have broken scissor blades in them. This is probably because Russians are better at coping with reality than Hollywood-Americans. More than cope, they accept or resign themselves to it. Not that I actually know anything about Russian film or the Russian national character past stereotypes, but the reason why this film is different is because it is Russian.

There are no interminably dense discussions about the neccessity or rightness/wrongness of what the characters are doing as there are in similar US films (Matrix would be the archetype here) - the characters fight because that's just what they do. Probably because they're Russian.It's impactful without unneccessarily twee and trite. Sure, they show off in the CG department a bit, but bear in mind that it is part one of a trilogy and they are setting up stuff so that parts2 and 3 don't jar. Anyway, that's how I reason it.

I love how the movie references so much stuff. The whole situation between good and evil is a complete metaphor for US and Societ relations: in conflict because they are the default sides; realising that mutually assured destruction was the path not to travel; establishing Detente and an occasionally fractous peace; neither side trusting the other; manouvering to pick a skirmish, yet not triggering war etc etc. Again the atmosphere is palpable: Glasnost and the collapse of the USSR didn't bring the freedoms and liberty of the West to Russia - almost it's as if those dreams simply don't work over in the East. Or maybe that Russian scepticism simply asserted itself. Wonderful colours; the mood-lighting guys go to town; the pared down characterisation; the sheer ambiguity of the whole thing - ahh, there's too much to explore.

Most of all I like how it's a middle finger directed at Hollywood. In a way, it's the meta-sneer emerging from within the film that says 'Bring it on!' It's the next step in a culture war between those who define it in a way they can comprehend it; and between those who actually know what culture is. I am glad the bear has been roused. And I'm glad he's a bit pissed off.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Having just woken up from a afternoon nap and still a bit dozy, i have been posed with this question.I had a sick day from work, yes a real sick day, not a "mental health" day, not a "i better take them while i still have choices" day, but a real "i'm feeling like UUUHHHGGG" sick day. I won't mention its because i have secret womens business, because then all the men will go "ahh ohh", shift in thier seats, try to look all understanding and snaggish, but really be all ooggly inside.

I fell asleep on the geek lounge which is too short for me but i can see the computer so its a comfort thing. Had a dream consisting of being in the world, and playing World of Warcraft, various real friends coming over to play World of Warcraft (you know who you are), getting pissed off with Ob because he won't change back into the humungous spider so i can finishing killing it and get xp and loot.All this and having the same amount of pain in my dream i'm having when awake.

Woke up to discover half my World of Warcraft playing time is gone and that i've drooled all over one side of my face, my arm and the sheepskin.

I want to know is why do i drool when i have arvo naps and never drool at night.

(except that once when a frock coated Johhny Depp strode out of a duck pond and well... you know)

Scientists have today confirmed the existence of a teasing gene which can be passed on from parents to children. Birth order of the parents does not seem to affect the passing of the gene, but the eldest child in the family is most likely to be the afflicted. Or the inflicting.

Research yesterday in the Woolworths supermarket, and today in the Johnson bathroom was the final clincher on determining the existence of the gene.

Our subject, Charlie, successfully teased his mother by walking back to the checkout where she was waiting and looking at each proceeding checkout and saying "No", taken to mean 'My Mummy isn't there'. Mummy waved to show where she was. Charlie then proceeded to that checkout, saying no to each other checkout that he passed, until he reached his Mummy. He then grinned cheekily at his mother, said ''No" to her face and ran off squealing and laughing. Mummy gave chase and Charlie was captured. Unfortunately the video camera wasn't working at the time as Simpkins had been faffing around with it again, but the work experience student managed to write it all down, so it will be recorded for prosperity. Once he returns to school his name will be erased from the paper and those of the senior scientists written on.

Further unplanned research took place this morning in the Johnson bathroom. Mummy was showering while Daddy sat on the loo, with toddler on his knee. Charlie started the conversation by stating that he loved Mummy. Daddy then asked if Charlie loved Daddy. Charlie replied that he loved Mummy. Daddy asked again "Do you love Daddy?" Again Charlie replied that he loved Mummy. He then added that he loved Nanny, Andrew, Kerri, Grandpa, Grandpa (2) and Grandma. Daddy, in desperation, then asked again if he loved Daddy. Charlie replied that he loved Charlie. He then pointed to a bug on the floor and said that he loved the bug. At this point Daddy was becoming quite obsessed in his quest to discover if Charlie loved him. Daddy then asked if he loved Tiddle (the cat) and Charlie replied in the affirmative. Daddy then asked in turn if he loved Neffy (the cat) and Seffy (the cat) to which Charlie responded yes, then Daddy asked if he loved Daddy, at which point Charlie took pity on him and responded yes.

All this was recorded on video tape, but was confiscated and burnt by Mrs Johnson who said she didn't care if it was a valuable scientific record, the world didn't need to see her in the shower, it had enough problems already, what with bird flu and everything.

So it has been conclusively proven that there is in fact a teasing gene, as any child with an older sibling could have told you. Requests for myself to attend Nobel Prize ceremonies to receive said prize should be sent to my private address and not the laboratory as Simpkins will try to steal all the glory, and I don't trust that work experience boy either.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

How quirkyalone are you? Your score was 104. Very quirkyalone: Relatives may give you quizzical looks, and so may friends, but you know in your heart of hearts that you are following your inner voice. Though you may not be romancing a single person, you are romancing the world. Celebrate your freedom on National Quirkyalone Day, February 14th!

I am romancing the world. That's right, and I have a great personality too.

"Tupperware Sweeps the Country." So said the Topeka Free Press in 1952, and the quirkyalone website in 2005. And I never realised going to the movies by yourself was such a major alternative lifestyle choice. So edgy am I.

The day when Horatio Nelson and the English Navy beat the snot out of the combined French and Spanish fleets off Cape Trafalgar. A day of saying "Bugger the traditional tactics, follow me and let's go get 'em". It worked a treat.

Hoorah. With a ship called Victory, you can't lose!

So, do as the good Admiral did after the victory and get pickled tonight. (but perhaps not in a barrel of brandy and I recommend not being dead)

For the past few months a handful of us have been getting together on the first Tuesday of the month for a bit of a drink, bit of pool, bit of awesome jukebox monopolising and bit of chat. This has been happening in the Oiirish salubriousness of Kelly's, but the bright idea was proposed last time to shift down King St to the Coopers Arms where Tuesday night means .... TRIVIA! (But let's agree to avoid it on Thursdays -- backpacker night. Eek!)

Is it not time the For Battle (Emerald City branch) crowd revived this Phreaquish tradition? And yes I know it's not as con-wenient to many of you as three blocks from your houses like last time but ... hell, it's way more con-wenient for me! Also, it's fun. These meetups are very low key, just a cool chilling time and you get to meetsome way coolpeople outsidethe usualblogging suspects.

Plus ... TRIV!

So it's Tuesday week, 1st November.

Pweeeeeeeeeeze can we go????Update: Forgot the time. D'oh. Triv starts at 7 so I'm thinking 6-6.30ish to get a good possie and have a relax before the serious bidness starts.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Inspired by harry's Superhero party and Charlie's Spiderman singlet, husbang and I were this morning discussing why no one had ever used a can of flyspray to get rid of Spiderman. We then went on to come up with an even more cunning plan, involving Kirsten Dunst.

You find the original radioactive spider, or irradiate another and have it bite Kirsten. Then, when she turns into a ravening Spiderwoman have her track down Spiderman have sex with him and then rip his head off and eat him. A cunning plan with no drawbacks.

7 things I want to do before I die.1) Spend an evening playing pool, drinking beer and talking shite with Michael Marshall Smith in a pub in north London.2) get a book deal with a major newYork publisher3) Take my second million and employ some reprobate programmers I know and make the best computer games in the world so we don't have to put up with the unending supply of complete crap anymore.4) Move Amanda's post down the page. hehe.5 - 7) not feeling truthsome enough

7 things that attract me to the opposite sex1) Eyes that hrurh you right in the splondokils.2) Eyes that lock with mine and then a slowly-spreading slightly-predatory grin (Actually this is the Number1 way to get me to do anything. And yes, that does mean anything.)3) Her eyes.4) Her eyes, I tell you.5) Earth6) Fire7) Maya Stange. It's all there. She is my dead-set pinnacle of physical perfection. If I was going to carve Galatea I'd just copy Maya Stange. But I don't have to, because she already exists. Which is lucky because I don't rate my carving skills at all.A - Where's her nose?B - It fell off.A - Why does she have two triangular belly buttons?B - I don't want to talk about it.8) Belly button. Man, I can't get enough of belly buttons. They're like a... thing.... that, y'know... makes you get all... thingie?

3 things I say a lot1) tea?2) Dude.3) Whiteman?

2 Things I can't do1) Get over the idea that if I look behind a shadow, or through a reflection, or into a lyric I will discover a hidden world.2) Whistle

5 celebrity crushes.Well Fyodor stole almost all of mine (including Kristin Scott-Thomas which I wasn't expecting) - and he went into extra time too for more points to boot! He did miss the obvious though: Eliza.1) Eliza Dushku.2) Maya Stange - most recently from the movie Garage Days.And two oldies (as in from my yoof, not that they are old women per se)3) Mary Mastrantonio from The Abyss and Kevin Costner's Robin Hood: Poonce of Leaves.4) Michelle Pfeiffer (yes, I can actually find blondes attractive)"Farewell ancient ladies! Farewell!"5) Claudia Black. She was the female lead in farscape and was Queen of the Amazons in an episode of Xena (I think it was the episode showing the arisal of the Amazons).6) Claire Forlani7) Sean Bean. Yes, I know he's not a chick, but he has played some totally arse-kicking roles: Sharp, Andy McNab, Boromir (Best death ever) and Odysseus. And if he stood at the end of the street, flourished a weapon and yelled "I'm going to hell! Who's coming with me?" I would down tools and charge on in there to give the Devil some curry. I'm man enough to admit man-crush.

6 other things1) No mobiles.2) None of that.3-6) Or any of the others.

Monday, October 17, 2005

Hello. I was going to make my first post here a righteous smiting of a religious nature, but I got overtaken by the Avian Flu like irrestibility of The Meme. Sorry to bump Anti Ob and the rest down the page, but if this two bit joint had a fold, that wouldn't be necessary now would it? Oh, and I don't "do" personal revelation while sober. Some of the following is not true.

7 things I want to do before I die1. Plan, draft and write an assignment in enough time to give the topic appropriate consideration. Dream on.2. Go on a quiz show3. And win heaps of loot4. Get my Dylan concert tally into double figures (two to go)5. Learn the guitar -- Attempt #543 and this time get past the difficult "painfully slow strumming of Leaving on a A Jet Plane" stage.6. See the Socceroos make a World Cup7. Live in NYC

7 things I can't do1. Maths Accept Enterprise as a legitimate part of the Star Trek franchise2. Get over the Ashes (unlike apparently the Australian cricket team who have, like, totally moved on)3. Get enough sashimi4. Carry a tune in a bucket5. Walk past a 2nd hand bookshop or Op shop and not go in6. Find the motivation to make the bed7. Genitive case in any language

7 things that attract me to the opposite sex1. Flashy car2. Bling3. Djuzh4. In touch with hott fashions, like that scrumptious Von Dutch5. I'm a Pisces so Tauruses need not apply!!1!6. Ringtone7. Evidence of waxing

7 things I say most often1. "'Protestor' is spelt with an "o", not an "e"."2. [insert] is/are dead to me3. Gag me with a spoon4. He's not a fucking protest singer, OK????5. Cozzy, can you lend me $20?6. schoonaralihpleez7. Jesus, what loser put this song on?

7 celebrity crushesHmmm. Only seven? It would be simpler to list those I haven't had a crush on. Here are 7 Celebrities I Do Not Now Nor Have I Ever Had A Crush On.1. Hugh Grant2. Orlando Bloom3. Fred McMurray4. Hugh Grant5. Anyone in a film/TV show based on Jane Austen6. Rotgut Hubcap (for Coz)7. Hugh Grant

Live a long and happy life full of travel, interesting people, and good wine.

Have a really nice cup of coffee.

Fly.

Raft the Grand Canyon.

Read the novels that my friends are going to write, hear their music, watch the movies they'll make, visit the houses they'll build, see the clothes they'll make, play with the clever devices they'll build, eat the meals they'll cook, and drink the beer they'll brew. I like having clever friends.

Know the exact simultaneous position and momentum of a particle.

Read a good book.

7 things I can't do.

Read music.

Watch reality TV.

Fly.

Play an instrument.

Travel faster than the speed of light.

Believe a politician.

Take list-surveys particularly seriously.

7 things that attract me to the opposite sex

Independence.

Fire.

Self-confidence.

Backs.

Laughter.

Active-ness.

Legs.

7 things I say the most often

"I've lost the word."

"What was I doing?"

"Blort."

"Where the hell did I put it?"

"Yes thanks."

"I dont know, what do you want to do?"

"I've won the lottery AGAIN?"

7 celebrity crushes

Ursula Le Guinn.

Sigourney Weaver.

Gina Torres.

Emma Thomson.

Dawn French.

Jewel Staite.

Lori Petty.

7 people I want to inflict this onNo, not really. Anyone who wants to play.

Friday, October 14, 2005

because I'm not a very discerning person, and have a terrible time bothering to pin myself down to anything, I find lists excruciating. with this in mind, in absolutely no particular order:

7 things I want to do before I die:1. afford an intaglio printing press and all the trimmings (ink, paper etc) 2. go to Turkey and Greece 3. go back to Spain, Italy, France and Morocco 4. build an achingly modern eco-friendly house on acreage in the Illawarra 5. have children 6. learn French better, and probably Italian too 7. finish then publish a book

Since I have very little to do at work today, I am taking on Ducky's meme.

7 ways to avoid work

7 things I want to do before I die1. Have another baby, or two or ...2. Walk along Hadrian's wall3. Live overseas for at least 12 months somewhere exotic4. Take my son to Greece5. See my son grow up and have his own children so I can buy them noisy toys and spoil them rotten6. Learn another language7. Finish building our house

7 things I can't do1. The splits2. Eat zuchinni3. Speak or read another language4. Sing well5. Weld6. Watch a Wiggles video all the way through more than twice in one sitting7. Cuddle Julius again

7 things that attract me to the opposite sex1. Good thighs2. Strong ankles3. A warped sense of humour4. Warmth of personality5. Blue or green eyes and black/dark brown hair6. Irish accents7. That indefinable something that you know when you see it

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Type in a artist or song and it creates a personal radio.Playing and suggesting songs that have the same qualities. You can rate them, and get 10 hours free, yes free which is always the best bit.

I chose Nick Cave. duh

It has played The Minutemen, Pulp, The Strokes, The Murder City Devils and Gene, so far. All have been pretty good, and i can see why the spooky AI, who for now is content to pick music for the weak humans, chose them.

I suspect that ForBattle is a tea drinking blog. (Ok, and coffee for you freaking degenerates out there).The recent comments on LP on Mark's thread about wondering whether to shut it down or not got me thinking about various things.1) Fyodor's comment of "It sucks to be Ken Parish, doesn't it?" was absolute gold. When various people suggested Mark get more people to help/contribute, I almost typed up a post about eggplants to email him then and there.2) On Troppo there were frequent diversions into discussions about what people were drinking. Most people went for various wines, though Ken went for Toohey's Old as well. This wine talk was quite prominent at LP for a while. So, I got thinking about what people drink while reading this blog. Obviously it's a daytime blog because most are sitting in an office and you can pretend to work when you're not. I'd unsurprisingly venture that 90% of blogs are exactly this. If half a bottle of cab-sav at 9pm while tooling around on Troppo and LP is the done thing (and I enjoyed doing just that), then getting up every now and then for a cup of tea fits in quite well with checking this slack blog.Of course, we can't be everything to everyone (well everyone who counts) because there already is slashdot. And the correct way to read that is in your underwear like a real employed programmer, right?

...Look, what I'm trying to say is that when the aliens land you'll read it on Slashdot, not here. I'm sorry, but it's just the way it is. We're too busy drinking tea looking at exploded animals.Hey, can we organise posts via headings like Haiku Hogan's 'Angry drunk post'? Because then we'd have 2 posts under "Exploded animals" and I think we'd be the only non-dedicated blog to do so.

So, just to reiterate:If you're after exploding animals then you need (a) clothes, (b) tea, and (c) to be here.If you want to know when the aliens land and how to plagarise whitehat hackers then you need (a) no job, (b) underpants, (c) slashdot and d) google.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

In news that shocked the world, Harry was seven days late in making cheap jokes at Lord Mattress-Hammer's expense. Daily eulogy updates are still continuing as we really don't know how long this can go on. Someone's got to bump him off sometime, right? I mean, I tried and missed.

But it was will great pleasure that I was able to point out that he had reached an immensely important milestone in his life: he is now *legally* allowed to sleep with girls half his age.

Saturday, October 08, 2005

QI is a sort of a quiz show that has just resumed in the guise of a new season. Hosted by Stephen Fry, of all people. Posh voice, dirty mind.Sort of a bit like Glass House but without the script, a bit like Good News Week but without the structure, it is a quiz show of no particular aim and no particular quiz.What it is, in fact *cough*, is a witty conversation between Stephen, almost always Alan Davies and three other guest comedians / people about the place / semi-celebrities / whoever Stephen likes this week, a conversation that Stephen can redirect or re-instigate by asking a question. Last week was comic actors. This week he asked an Opera soprano Dune if she'd ever had a deep-fried Mars bar, from which ensued an incredulous discussion about deep-fried Curly-Wurlies, deep-fried pizza, and Scottish cuisine in general. Last week he asked everyone how many sheep had gone into Noah's Ark which resulted eventually in Bill Bailey singing "They all came marching two by two, Hurrah, hurrah. And then came the amoebas marching two, no four, no eight, no twelve..."*Uproarious laughter!* (You do all know who Bill Bailey is, don't you? Google is your friend...)

At the end of it all, somehow Stephen has given everyone a score, usually to the negative. His particular pleasure is asking questions to which the obvious or best known or even slightly educated answer is WRONG!!! At which point he takes great delight in having the erroneous answer flashed up in huge, friendly letters, a la "I knew exactly what you were going to say, nerr nerney nerr!" to the melodious accompaniment of an embarrassing klaxon.(Did you know...)The correct answer to the sheep question is not two, but seven. A 'taffy pull' is NOT a Welsh pick up line but the fairground competition/traditional activity of making taffy (toffee) candy in America. No, salt water Taffy has no salt water in it. What is the size of a platypus? (sort of hold your hands out to indicate what you reckon...) NO! The size of a platypus is NOT "about this big" - a duck-billed platypus perhaps, but 'platypus' is a name originally given to an insect, a beetle. (Okay, I haven't checked this out, but Stephen says it so it must be right...) It results in a lot of painful expression between guests who know that what ever answer they have, even if it is the same answer, it will be wrong. Hence the negative scores. But very educational. Hey, tonight I even learned what the Queen carries in her handbag.

Random question from tonight, and thought provoking:What age would you like to be? Some guy (the tenor) said 6, cos you're the centre of your universe, you can get away with anything, and you get fed lots of custard. The next guy (the bass) said 90, for exactly the same reason. Stephen, from his chair of wisdom, proclaims that from a National Statistics survey of thousands of people, the ideal age to be was determined to be, in fact, 17. (Gawd, can you remember being 17?) The tenor exclaims that at 17 he'd been spotty and gangly and wearing glasses, the bass says everyone was stupid, the soprano looks digusted at her own memory and Stephen Fry says he was in gaol.

BBC 2, 10 pm England time on a Friday night. There just has to be a website...Ah, here we go:"QI is the brainchild of long-time TV comedy guru John Lloyd, producer of Not The Nine O'Clock News, Spitting Image and Blackadder. A few years ago, John came to the sudden and shocking realisation that he didn't really know anything -" Really, that's all you needed to know.http://www.qi.com/tv/

Friday, October 07, 2005

I hope you don't mind, Mindy, but I just thought I'd find a nice photo to push the image of disembowelled reptiles a little further down the page. this is the delightful Pippilicious looking quite at ease with her guise as Diana, at the now infamous Faerie Party 1: Faerie Grotto for Grotty Faeries.

if I do say so myself, I took some good photos that night.the fairy lights really helped. sooo atmospheric!

And when the shorts were on I saw the short for "Night Watch" which looks to be the most visually impressive film ever. Lots of very neat camera tricks and CG stuff. Rob likes it too apparently. When it started I thought it was 'Mirrormask' because it looked so Neil Gaiman: horror and magic in contemporary setting. But it's a Russian production and is part one of a three part "horror epic". I am champing at the bit. It's the battle between good and evil that had a truce called on it that is enforced by the Night Watch who are.... look, when I see it I am bringing spare scrotums because I tore my balls off just watching the short.

Mirrormask is showing at Dendy now!!UPDATE: No it's not! I can't read "Murderball". I asked and they don't have Mirrormask listed. they suggested it could show at Palace but weren't sure.

Saturday, October 01, 2005

.Does anyone else faithfully follow Column 8 in SMH?I have been an avid reader ever since I discovered that the latest incarnation has a real personality, unafraid to make fun of itself or its contributers, willing to take a running joke to the next level, and delighting in the perverse pursuit of useless trivia and the tormenting of its readingship with the same. (Mentioned in the last item of today's column, the Lady Agatha Maberly has been a character who has featured on and off for months!)

That aside, people of sense who can encapsulate a thought into a ten line, single column paragraph are still given free lead. Such a one is this, to which I make no furthur comment as I couldn't possibly improve on it - a valid question, a scathing political observation, and witty to boot:

"I can't answer the question about how famous you have to be, to be assassinated instead of just murdered (Column 8, Wednesday)," concedes Drew Wagner, somewhere in France. "But I would like to know how wealthy you (or your country) have to be before you are called an expat instead of an immigrant. I now meet Irish expats, yet growing up they were always described as immigrants. Maybe the Government can start calling detention centre inmates 'expats' to further diminish any residual sympathy for them from the community."